


Swim

by YolandaWinston



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YolandaWinston/pseuds/YolandaWinston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Go for a swim, William. It will be refreshing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swim

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published on my LJ in February. Diaphenia was an invaluable beta.

Lizzie’s back at Netherfield for spring break, and in a way it’s like no time has passed.

Bing and Jane are just visiting for a long weekend, him between med school rotations, her saying goodbye to her sisters before starting her new job assisting an up-and-coming designer in LA.  Ever since Bing came to his senses and begged for forgiveness, he and Jane have seemingly been joined by a very short invisible thread. Lizzie isn’t sure what prompted Bing’s sudden change of heart, but she’s incredibly glad that something did – though the constant hand-holding and gooey eyes are getting a little much to take.

Meanwhile, Darcy’s set up camp in the library with his laptop and piles of papers. Supposedly he’s decided to work remotely for the week so as to catch up with Bing and accompany Gigi, who was just _dying_ to see Netherfield. Lizzie’s not sure she entirely buys it – from what she saw in San Francisco he spends plenty of time with his sister as it is without following her on vacation, and Gigi surely had better offers for spring break than hanging out at an (admittedly gorgeous) house in the suburbs.

Whatever the reason, Darcy is back at Netherfield, and once again he and Lizzie are awkwardly dancing around each other - figuratively speaking this time, thank god. But the hostility that simmered between them last summer (one-sided though it may have been) has disappeared, and in its place is an altogether different kind of tension – one Lizzie can’t deal with through eye-rolling and costume theatre.

Further preventing her from thinking she’s fallen into some sort of vortex back to a simpler time when Wickham was good, Darcy was evil, and both of her beloved sisters hadn’t had their hearts broken, are the two girls sprawled on the living room floor playfully arguing about which season of _Gossip Girl_ to marathon. Lydia hadn’t been overly welcome at Netherfield last summer, and Gigi was just a name that Caroline kept dropping to emphasise her closeness to Darcy (Caroline is too tied up with work to join them this time, and Lizzie can’t say she’s overly disappointed).

Now, after days of quiet discussions and tears shared behind closed doors, the two girls are filling the house with music and laughter – and god, is it good to hear Lydia laughing again. Lizzie watches them become closer by the day; Lydia has turned down one of the plentiful guest rooms to sleep on Gigi’s floor, and they’ve started to wear each other’s clothes as casually as if they were sisters. Lizzie feels a pang when she notices this – she’d forbidden Lydia from invading her closet years ago after she spilled beer all over Lizzie’s favourite sweater, and she’d never been confident that she could pull off wearing Jane’s beautiful clothes. But it’s a good pang, mostly. Lydia’s smiling and dressing like a hyperactive rainbow again, and Lizzie can almost let herself believe that’s all that matters.

Except last night, after far too much _far_ too expensive champagne (Bing really is absurdly generous, especially when blissfully in love), Lydia had cornered Lizzie in a palatial bathroom and made a confession. It wasn’t, she admitted, their father’s PI friend who’d tracked down Wickham, and it wasn’t their father’s lawyers who’d had the site taken down just in time. It was Darcy, all of it, and he’d made her swear to keep it a secret but she couldn’t stand it anymore, Lizzie! Everyone going around unaware that right in their midst, tinkering with the sound system and sucking at Guitar Hero, was the closest thing to a knight in shining armour they were going to get in twenty-first century California.

They had rejoined the others, but Lizzie had a hard time concentrating on her conversation with Gigi (who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest). Her eyes were constantly drawn to Darcy. She watched the way he smiled at Jane and Bing, leaning over to murmur something that looked like a congratulations into Bing’s ear when Jane left the table. She noticed the way he held himself lately, the same way Gigi had insisted he always did, chin raised as he laughed along with the conversation. And her heart swelled when she saw him deep in conversation with Lydia, topping up her champagne glass unprompted.

She had taken a long time to get to sleep, the champagne pleasantly weighing down her limbs but thoughts of Darcy whirling round her mind, making her feel curiously light.

And so Lizzie finds herself treading water in Netherfield’s heated indoor pool, chatting with Jane and Bing who are nauseatingly squeezed onto a one-person pool-lounger, and trying not to notice the way Darcy’s eyes keep flickering over to her before he forces them back to his iPad. Why he’s sitting next to the pool with an iPad and not in the water with her is beyond her.

It’s clearly exasperating Bing, who is drying off after a lengthy swim during which he failed to persuade Darcy to join them. Lizzie couldn't say why Bing is continuing to harass Darcy into getting into the water, when it seems the swimming portion of Bing’s afternoon is over and the cuddling portion has barely begun. But once or twice she catches him widening his eyes at Darcy and nodding in her direction, so she certainly has her suspicions.

Darcy just keeps repeating that he doesn’t like swimming, and insisting that he needs to get through some work emails. Truthfully, Lizzie’s pretty certain he’s only just stopped blushing from when she appeared downstairs in her stripy bikini (not immodest, but... not unsexy, either. Not that she’d put a lot of thought into packing it instead of the navy one-piece or anything). And she’s not sure how many emails he could possibly have typed in between arguing with Bing about why he wasn’t swimming and pretending that he wasn’t looking at her, but it can’t have been many.

What it comes down to is that they’re both doing a really bad job of trying not to notice each other, and Lizzie is getting fed up with the situation. She’s felt on edge for days - unsure of how to act when they’re together, anticipating the next time she’ll see him when they’re not, all the while dealing with their friends’ increasingly unsubtle innuendos. And now, knowing what Lydia told her... plus she’s finally admitted to herself that she’d be quite interested in seeing him take his shirt off. So, finally, Lizzie adds her voice to Bing’s nagging.

“Darcy! Enough with the iPad already,” she announces, trying to sound confident and not like a huge perv with dubious motivations. “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

There’s a sing-song lilt to her voice that she didn’t intend, and she looks away, embarrassed. When she glances back, he’s gazing right at her. It’s half a relief to finally meet his eyes, and it half makes her feel like she’s catching on fire from the inside out.

And then, to her great surprise, Darcy nods.

“Alright. Let me just sign off on this proposal.”

Lizzie blinks. That was easier than she expected. She instinctively looks to Jane, noticing her raised eyebrow and subtle smile, and then to Bing, who is wide-eyed and beaming as he looks between the two of them.

Suddenly restless, Lizzie pushes off from the wall and glides backwards through the water, letting it rush past her ears and muffle the overly analytical voices in her head. She neatly somersaults at the opposite wall and lets herself drift freely underwater, her fingers tracing across the cool tiles at the bottom. As the air in her lungs gently buoys her to the surface, she takes a moment to wonder when exactly she started wanting to share a pool with a half-naked Darcy. This crush was going one thousand miles an hour before she was aware it had begun.

As she breaks the surface and wipes the water from her eyes, her gaze falls upon the neatly folded pile of clothes on the chair Darcy was occupying a minute ago. She slowly turns around, and sure enough half-naked Darcy is _right there_ , and okay, she was right to look forward to this. Thank you, Pemberley gym facilities.

He’s half-submerged and looking incredibly awkward, and she is completely at a loss for how to behave in this reasonably unique situation. She looks to her sister for guidance, her lips already forming an invitation to get back in the water, and notices that Jane and Bing are hastily packing up their towels.

Of course.

In a moment they’re gone, Bing talking loudly about which movie they should watch that night, Jane with a most uncharacteristic wink.

Lizzie has found herself alone with Darcy every so often since he arrived at Netherfield, but it’s never been like this. In this pool, under the dim halogen lights, in the early evening, she is overwhelmingly aware of just how alone they really are. It’s both suffocating and exhilarating.

She steels herself and turns to Darcy, flashing him a smile that she immediately knows was tight and awkward. He responds in kind, and in the lengthy  pause that follows Lizzie has a strange urge to splash him just to see how he’d react.

Instead she pushes off the wall with her toes, slowly back-stroking to the opposite side as she searches for a safe topic of conversation. Mercifully, by the time she gets there Darcy has ducked under the water and is swimming laps in a strong, clean breast-stroke. She allows herself to become hypnotized by his movements, and forgets to look away when he surfaces to catch his breath.

Once again they find themselves staring at each from adjacent corners of the pool, and Lizzie is at a total loss for what to do or say. Infuriatingly, Darcy now seems happy to watch her in silence, and if he keeps looking at her like that she’s definitely going to either say something she shouldn’t, or jump him.

The thing is, both of those options will require her not to be an Olympic-sized pool width away from him. Barely aware of what she’s doing but unable to stop herself, Lizzie ducks her head and starts to paddle towards him.

When she looks up he’s that much closer and maddeningly still watching her. She meets his gaze, and wonders how she could ever have mistaken the expression there for judgemental disdain. His eyes now are serious but unsure, and all at once the words just spill out of her.

“I know what you did. For Lydia.”

She speaks quietly, but her words resonate in the large, almost empty room. He drops his eyes, shakes his head ever so slightly, but she persists.

“She told me. And I don’t know why you didn’t want her to say anything, but I just need to thank you. For all of us.”

She waits until he meets her eyes again, makes sure he sees just how much she means it. “Thank you.”

He nods, hesitates. Apparently makes up his mind.

“You’re welcome. But I didn’t do it for Lydia.”

Lizzie is puzzled. “What?”

“Of course, I didn’t want her to have to go through that. And it was affecting Gigi too. But mostly I did it for you.”

Her gratitude is abruptly overwhelmed by a swell of anger, and worse, helplessness. Pushing her wet hair back from her face, she haltingly forces out her question.

“You... Jesus. How am I ever meant to repay you for something like this?”

Darcy shakes his head, more firmly this time. Droplets of water catch the dim light and give him a momentary halo. Lizzie represses a snort. Even the lighting thinks he’s a fucking hero.

“This is why I didn’t want you to know, Lizzie. I don’t need you to repay me. I don’t _want_ you to repay me. I just... you may as well know that when it came down to it, it wasn’t for Lydia and it wasn’t for my sister. It was because you were upset and I wanted you... not to be.”

He says it so solemnly, so honestly, that any remaining doubt fades in an instant. In its place is a burning desire to just _know_ already, once and for all. Because her heart is beating twice as fast as usual, and they’ve drifted a little too close together and aren’t really wearing much at all, and barely four months ago he told her that he loved her and she thinks that maybe he still does. Before she can change her mind, she blurts it out.

“Can I ask you something?”

She grimaces at her phrasing, waits for the _you just did_ , but he merely nods.

“Certainly.”

Lizzie takes a deep breath.

“Do you still- at Collins and Collins, everything you said then. Do you still feel it?”

She feels bold, and terrified, and like she’s going to die if he says-

“No.”

Her stomach lurches, and she realises that for all her nerves, she never truly expected this. Nor did she anticipate the sickening physical pain that would worm its way through her chest and twist around her heart as that one word sinks in. She ducks a little lower in the suddenly cold water, embarrassed and hurt, and thinks that at least drowning herself is a real and achievable option to get out of this situation.

“No,” Darcy continues thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the distress he is causing her. “I feel very differently now, on the whole. More humble, certainly. More capable of sympathising with others. More open to criticism. More willing to laugh. I think I just feel like a better person in general, Lizzie.” His eyes meet hers and they are warm and sincere.

Lizzie treads water, opens her mouth, closes it again.

“That’s not what I meant,” she eventually manages in barely more than a whisper.

“I know,” he responds, quietly. Seriously.

They lock gazes, each waiting for the other to say something, anything. Eventually Darcy drops his eyes and exhales, his breath gently rippling the water between them.

“Yes. In that regard, I feel the same. Except I know you better, and I know myself better, and I have been lucky enough to count you as a friend these past few months. So yes, Lizzie. I feel the same, except more so.”

The relief is palpable, and she can’t stop the corners of her mouth tugging upwards.

“Does that answer your question?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says, smiling, pushing her hands through the water, propelling herself ever so slightly closer to him.

“Do you? Feel the same?” He looks about as nervous as she felt ten seconds ago, and for once she doesn’t feel the need to challenge him, to make him face what he just put her through.

“No,” she says simply. “I feel very differently indeed.”

There is a flash of surprise in Darcy’s eyes, and the look of pure hope in his face nearly breaks her heart. She could explain her change of heart – and she definitely should apologise for how she responded last time he opened up to her. Obviously her little speech had quite an impact.

But she feels like the best way to assure him of her feelings at this point is also going to be the most enjoyable. Her toes barely reaching the floor, she pushes herself through the short stretch of water remaining between them and presses her lips to his.

Barely a second passes before Darcy – no, _William_ – places his hands on her waist, then slides them across her slippery skin to her back and pulls her close against him. He tilts his head and opens his mouth, kissing her like he’s waited a year for this chance and isn’t going to waste it, and she must have been doing those videos for too long because the only coherent thought in her mind is _My name is Lizzie Bennet and William Darcy is a fucking amazing kisser._

She traces her fingers up his neck, pushes them through his hair, holds him close and gives as good as she gets. He inhales sharply, moans quietly into her mouth, and there’s just so much she needs to say to him as soon as humanly possible. She pulls away, holds his face in her hands as he tries to lean back in, and attempts to make a start.

“I’m so sorry for what I said at Collins and Collins.”

“Doesn’t matter,” William insists, his voice gravelly and sexy as hell as he pulls her back to him. When there’s barely an inch between them, he pauses and adds, “Though I’m certain I can never wear my newsie cap unironically ever again.”

She laughs, “Oh, no one can, Darc - not since 1923,” and closes the remaining space between them. A very pleasant moment passes before she remembers that she was in the middle of something.

“No! It does matter. I was awful, and I was so wrong about you, about everything, and I just need you to know that I’m truly sorry.”

Darcy looks thoughtfully into her eyes, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over her hipbone, and she reminds herself to concentrate.

“That’s very nice of you. But weren’t you listening before? You were right, about everything.”

She starts to shake her head, but he cups her cheek, gently stilling her as he continues.

“I had been cold towards you, mostly out of a misguided attempt to hide my feelings. I insulted your family, and I contributed to your sister’s unhappiness. You had every reason to despise me.”

The word makes her wince, and he looks not entirely unaffected by it. But, chin tucked ever so slightly, he forges on.

“Everything you said to me that day, as much as it... wounded me at the time, has made me into a better person. So. Thank you, Lizzie Bennet.”

“You’re welcome,” she sighs, leaning in for a kiss.

“But I was definitely wrong about one thing,” she adds, pulling away again and ignoring his muffled groan.

“What’s that?” he asks, leaning in to press hot kisses down the cool skin of her neck.

“When I said you were the last man in the world I could ever fall in love with,” she gasps.

Darcy pauses against her neck, and pulls back to meet her eyes.

“I was wrong about that,” Lizzie says seriously. It’s not quite a confession, but it’s more than enough for now.

“I’m glad,” says William, his whole face relaxing into the most charming smile Lizzie has ever laid eyes on.

That discussion out of the way, Lizzie returns to her new favourite pastime, kissing William Darcy’s face. Her hands grip his shoulders, and she feels his muscles tense beneath her palms. In the water, it’s only too easy for her legs to drift up and drape around his waist, for his hands to settle on her ass and support her.

Lizzie knows they should relocate to a less communal area out of respect for Bing’s hospitality. It occurs to her, as her fingertips skim below the waistband of Darcy’s board-shorts, that privacy could have some additional perks.

Just as she’s working up the motivation to stop kissing him for long enough to suggest this brilliant new plan, Darcy pulls away. Pauses. Frowns.

“Did you hear something?”

Lizzie blinks the stars out of her eyes and listens.

“No. What is it?”

Out of the sudden silence, a computerised voice announces, “Domino auto-upload complete”. Lizzie whips her head around in time to see flashes of brown and red and an iPhone disappear from the doorway to the main house, giggling and shrieking fading into the distance.

Crap.

“You’re going to have some explaining to do,” says William teasingly, as she gently drops her head to his shoulder and groans. She can already picture the flood of caps-locked comments that will be waiting for her when she opens her laptop. As for her next video... well, perhaps that intro she thought of earlier will come in handy after all.

Before she can get too lost in her thoughts, Darcy presses a kiss below her ear, and she feels his lips curve into a smile against her skin. Laughter bubbles up from inside her, loud and free, and for once the internet is the last thing on her mind.  



End file.
